


Kara

by Adrastea



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-20
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-16 09:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1342135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrastea/pseuds/Adrastea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Original character (F), Kara lives in Northumbria, but wants to join the Vikings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kara

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfic :)! I hope you like it. 
> 
> This takes place in second season, but there are really mostly only spoilers for first season. I ignore a lot of the plot from season 2. This is from the point of view of an original character. There is romance, but if you're looking for yummy smut it is not here (sorry). 
> 
> Thanks :)

As a young girl I lost my parents. They tell me it was a plague, but I have no reason to believe them. I grew up in a small town in Northumbria and I always felt alone. My foster family was loving, but they often forced things on me. I know they did not want to force me to do anything, but it was in my best interest to follow the King’s laws and be a devout Christian. I don’t think it has anything to do with losing my parents so early, but I never did believe in God. I went to church with the rest of the townspeople, but it was all pretend to me. As I entered adolescence, my heretical ways were harder for my family to hide. I knew I was no longer welcome in town and so to lessen the trouble for my family, I left at 14.

            It seems strange, now, to think a 14 year old so adamant about religion. Anyway, I wandered the woods for days, hungry, wet, and cold. By the miracle of the all father, a man found me. At the time he was already quite old. He spoke only some of my language, but understood enough. He communicated that he was a Northman, the only survivor of a long sea journey. Instead of attempting to return home or fight the English on his own, he chose to wander the land, learning all he could before the return of his people. He lost track of the years, but he was ever hopeful. He took me in and taught me of Odin, Frigga, and Yddrasil, and Valhalla. Slowly, I learned his strange language. As we wandered the land, I would go to town to buy supplies and sell his woodwork, because I still retained my birth tongue.

            During one especially cold winter, we took refuge in a large monastery. A young boy, still in training to be a priest, caught my eye. He was around my age, 18, or maybe older. I was sad to think he had made a vow of celibacy. We talked at length through the cold night and his passion for his God made me bite my tongue. I refrained for the first time from pointing out contradictions and hypocrisy within his faith. He still saw the doubt on my face, though I tried hard to hide it. But he was kind and told me wonderful stories that I almost wished I believed. Within a year, I heard that the monastery had been destroyed by Northmen.

            For the next few years, Audgisil taught me of weapons, fighting, and building. I had already been schooled in cooking, hunting, fishing, and basic survival in the wild, but he wanted me to be a warrior. He wanted me to gain entrance to Valhalla even if he never could. He knew that one day soon the Northmen would return and they would stay for longer. This most recent raid had been successful. They had perfected their ships and travel method. They would not be able to resist the lure of another land to raid.

            Five years passed and Audgisil had been dead for at least two when I heard news of Northmen again. They landed in Wessex, which was far from my wooded camp. I went to the nearest town and stole a horse, for if I did not catch them this time, I feared I would join my master in a calm forever sleep.

            As I drew closer to their more recent sightings I sped to the coast, in search of their ships. Finally, I saw them. Three large, beautiful ships anchored in a cove. At once I was exhilarated and then panic filled me as I saw the men approaching their row boats, preparing to leave. I rode faster, not thinking about how they would take my approach. They caught sight of me and raised their weapons. There were shouts. I slowed my horse and dismounted. They waited as I led my horse slowly closer. A man stepped forward, and he spoke English. He asked me something, but I did not hear, because I was shocked by the face I saw.

            “Athelstan? Is that you?” I said in their language, in an attempt to show my friendship and knowledge.

            He came closer, speaking in his new language, “You know me?”

            “I came to your monastery over ten years ago, with an old man, Audgisil. He taught me all I know of the north lands and Odin. I do not belong here, Athelstan. Please, let me join you and find my way to Valhalla.”

            By now another man had stepped forward. He smiled at my words, amused. He looked powerful and he seemed to be in charge. I guessed him to be an earl or a king. In his later years, Audgisil had taught me some politics. I bowed my head slightly, suddenly unsure of myself.

            The man, who I later learned to be earl Ragnar, and Athelstan exchanged hushed words and then Athelstan came forward.

            “Grab your things. You can come with us.”

I thought I had suffered those days in the woods alone, but the trip back from England was infinitely worse. What food we had was either old, wet, or soaked in sea salt. The ocean sprayed us and kept our clothes damp and cold. I stayed close to Athelstan the whole trip. He tried to teach me the names of the important people to remember. I tried to listen. Most of the time, I stared at his face, wondering how a priest ended up a part of this group. I wondered how he had become someone who killed his own people. I wondered if he was lying to those around him to survive or if he was maybe lying to himself.

When we finally reached shore, there was much celebration for the successful raiding. Some of the townsfolk gave me strange, unsettling looks, but most were too preoccupied drinking and dancing. I remained with Athelstan and he brought me to a room part of Ragnar’s home. Ragnar had granted him this room to live in and Athelstan welcomed me to stay with him. As a foreigner by blood, it would be difficult for me to do much of anything, at least at first. I had noticed that even after all these years with them and with Ragnar’s blessing, Athelstan was welcomed by most, but not all.

Weeks passed and I was tested many times. I trained with Ragnar and Athelstan, among others, and learned even more about the Gods. Temperatures dropped significantly from my first day. At nights Athelstan kept me warm, but that’s all it was.

One night, we were all gathered in the great hall for a feast. I found myself staring at Ragnar’s son, Björn, yet again. His features were strange to me. He was taller than any man I had met and looked to be a carved statue. He towered over both Ragnar and his mother, Lagertha. I stared, not because I found him attractive, but because his features confused me. Something about him seemed almost unnatural. To my right, I noticed Athelstan let out a long breath. He put his fist to the table, a silent motion, but I could tell he was upset. As I watched, he stood and left the hall. I followed quickly and called for him, but he either did not hear me or ignored me. Outside the cold night air was biting after the warmth of the busy hall. I followed Athelstan around the side of the great hall and caught up to him.

“Athelstan, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just taking a piss.” His words slurred a little bit. Turned away from me, he relieved himself as I watched his back.

“Are you… jealous?”

In response, after he had finished, he put his fist to the great hall’s structure and closed his eyes. I moved between him and the building and put my hand gently on his cheek.

“I look at him because I find him strange. His form is like blocks. I stare to figure out how it is he is built. You are the one that keeps me warm at night. You are my only true friend here. There’s nothing to be jealous of.”

He looked at me and as always, his blue eyes drew me in. “But that’s all it is. Warmth.”

I thought about what to do. I thought maybe I should just break away from his gaze and walk away, to think things through, but instead I lifted myself, putting my arms around his neck, and kissed him. It was a short, shaky kiss, but as I drew away his arms wrapped around me and pulled me back. His kiss was long and I closed my eyes and focused on the feelings of his lips and facial hair, the warmth on my waist where his hands were and the softness of his hair as I put my fingers through it.

When the kiss ended, neither of us said a thing. I knew I should say something. I thought about saying how I’d felt for him since that day in the monastery or that every night I had yearned for more. As I started to speak, without a plan in my mind of what to say, Athelstan interrupted me and said, “I know.”

I wasn’t sure what he knew. Maybe he had decided it was no longer time for talk. I was alright with that, so I followed him back to our room. As we passed through the great hall, I wondered if he’d been with a woman before. Surely in the past five years since the end of his priesthood he had. I, on the other hand, had lived since adolescence with an older mentor, who never sought to touch me. Living apart from society as a heretic, I found I had no desire to get involved with any of the men I met, even if for just a night. Living alone after Audgisil’s death, I had more freedom to explore my body, but still a shudder of nervousness ran through me as Athelstan closed the door behind us.

He went slowly; kissing, touching, and disrobing me gently. He must’ve felt or seen how tense I was, but he made no comment. He moved us to the bed and pulled me down with him. I was eager to meet the bed, as the warmth of the fires in the great hall did not reach our room. He wrapped us in blankets and our bodies were flush. I tried desperately to keep track of his caresses, but I was lost. It wasn’t graceful like a dance and it wasn’t overeager. It wasn’t a battle and it wasn’t a game. We were all alone on a boat, moving together with the waves with bright stars overhead. Sometimes the water was calm and sometimes a wave would crash. When our journey had ended, we drifted together into sleep.  


End file.
